


The Beginning

by MaskedPlayer



Series: Masked-Immortal GTA AU [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst, Attempted Murder, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Fluff and Angst, GTA AU, Gen, Gun Violence, Homelessness, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Poverty, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskedPlayer/pseuds/MaskedPlayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the year 2000, and 11 year old Ray Narvaez Jr. finds his way to Los Santos, California; all the way from New York. Ray's life was never easy, but this transition changed his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the GTA AU that Immortal-grump and I have lovingly crafted over the last 3 months. wrote this as a good starter for where it all began. If people are interested, I'll write more. 
> 
> PLEASE give me feedback! You can leave a comment here or send an ask on tumblr to gayvinz.tumblr.com   
> I really hope you guys like it!

His mother always told him to protect himself. “I can't look out for you all the time, little one.” She would say, swaddling him in her arms and kissing his forehead. Ray Narvaez Jr. took all of his mother's words to heart; every last one. Even the _last_ ones he ever heard.

 

Ray's father was a gardener, but he'd only met him once or twice. His mother lived in a tiny house in the middle of New York and she rented out parts of it to whoever she could, just to help make rent and put food on the table. It was a rough life but it wasn't horrible, or at least in Ray's opinion it wasn't. From age 5 he could remember seeing strangers come in and out of his home, bypassing the bedroom he shared with his mother. They rarely talked to him, and many of them were intimidating.

 

Sometimes, his mother would have him stay in the room in the back of the closet. The closet itself was a large walk-in, but at the back was a door that was only big enough to crawl through, which had a smaller room just behind it. It was tall enough for young Ray to stand in, but when she would come back there and play robot attack or whatever hand-held he had with him, she had to hunch over. “Protect yourself always,” She said, petting through his hair. At such a young age, he didn't know the dangers of his own home, but he would learn.

 

It was around age 9 that she pulled him to the side and told him she had something _very important_ to teach him. He smiled warmly at her, knowing that she always taught him important skills. Way more important than the ones they shoved at him at school; coloring in the lines, keeping your elbows off the table. Useless.

 

The woman showed him the gun and watched how his face went slack at the sight of it. He knew what it was, his school told him it was _bad_ but if his mother had it then of course it wasn't. “This is what I use to keep bad people away, Ray. You're too young to use it, but I will show you how I do. Understand?” She smiled, all warmth and sweetness as her hair framed her sweet face. Ray nodded eagerly. He was only nine when he watched his only parent shoot tin cans and old pieces of wood, eyes going wide at the sight of the destruction it caused. It was a small handgun, but it was _heavy_ when she let him hold it. He tried to pull the trigger but couldn't, and she showed him how to flick the safety on and off. The second he was allowed he shot the gun, toppling backwards from the kickback of even the blank. She laughed and caught him before he hit the ground. “See? You're too little, my angel.”

 

“But how can I protect you?” Ray asked, eyes shining. His hands stung and burned a little, a numb feeling passing through his hands. He didn't cry. The child never did, not from getting hurt. Even when he'd fall off his bike or skateboard, he would just grunt and move on.

 

“Don't worry about that. Protect _yourself_ by staying hidden if anything happens.”

 

~

 

When he was 11, the people who frequented the house were different. His mother sent him away to his hidden room more often, and he couldn't hear anything from in there, but he felt like something was wrong. Maybe they were just mean. Maybe they didn't know there was a kid, that's why she rented the place out. She gave him a nest of folded up blankets and sleeping bags to curl up in, inside his little room. It felt like a playhouse; like the ones he saw on TV, but instead of in a tree it was inside his own house. His secret place, away from the world.

 

He was nearly late for school one morning, so he scrambled out of the closet while pulling on his shirt and fumbling with his tiny backpack. He was squinting down through his glasses at his bag, making sure his books and favorite stuffed animal was safely tucked away, when he ran into something solid.

 

The man was so huge to him, his eyes wandered up and he had to tilt his head all the way back to see his face.

 

“Where'd you come from? Narnia?” The man asked, tone sweet. Ray flushed and stumbled back, pulling his bag up.

 

“Uh... I don't-- know what that is,” He muttered. He looked around his room for his mother but didn't see her, so instead he rushed past the stranger. “Mom.”

 

“Oh! Ray sweetie!” she sounded flustered, mixing up something in the skillet for another man who was sitting at the table. She cast him a glance and Ray saw the whites in her eyes when she looked at him, so he tucked himself in close to the corner with both tiny hands on his bag. “I'll get you to school in just a second.”

 

“I can walk myself,” Ray offered. “Sorry I got up late.” She rushed over to him and kissed his face.

 

“What a good little baby I have.”

 

“Mom...”

 

“I'll see you after school! I'll come get you. I promise.”

 

~

 

She hadn't, but he was used to that. She was busy at work. When he scraped his feet off on the welcome mat, there was a note for him.

 

_I got called in to work early. I'm so sorry, little one. I'll be sure to come snuggle with you when I get home, okay? Go to bed on time! And make sure you sleep in your nest._

 

A sigh escaped his lips but it wasn't disappointed, just impassive. He opened the door, getting himself a box of pop-tarts and an easy-open can of spagettio's, before heading back into his 'room'.

 

He used the plastic spoon from his lunch to eat the can of cold pasta, sitting and playing his hand held game. He put it down after beating it- again- opening his books to read them while casually nibbling on the pastries.

 

The _thump_ alarmed him, making him jump. His mother never made that much noise, and it had only been a few hours since he came home. He stared at the door of his little room, his safe place, as it bowed in from another bang on it. Petrified, he stayed silent, staring at the light switch near the door. The child hoped and wished with all he had that it would turn off, too scared to get that close to the sound. When it opened, he scrambled as far back as he could.

 

“Hey there,” The man greeted, smile all teeth with no gums and eyes mean. “Why don't you come out?” Ray silently shook his head, heart hammering in his ears when he realized there was only one exit. But, he couldn't fit in here, right?

 

Wrong.

 

The man struggled but was able to wriggle his way through the small door. “Kid,” He hummed, voice much less cheery now. “I asked you a question.”

 

“I-I'm supposed to stay in here.” Ray stated. “My mom told me to.”

 

“Yeah? Well she's not here. Maybe I can sit in here with you?” Ray felt a bitter feeling in his stomach as the man got closer, sitting down with a huff. The smell of his deodorant made the young boy's nose scrunch up, shuffling away from him. “There's no rule against that, right?”

 

“I... I think there is,” He admitted, eyes darting for the door. There was a _flash_ in the man's eyes, setting off an instinct in Ray; he bolted for the door.

 

“Gotcha!” The grown man snagged his ankle, dragging it carelessly out from under him and forcing him to _oof_ onto the floor. “Now, isn't this a fun game? I've caught you now, that means _I_ make the rules.” Ray whimpered, being dragged backwards.

 

“Mom! Momma!!” Ray howled, clawing at the floor as he was slowly dragged backwards and away from the opening. Tears sprang in his eyes when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt to force him back up. “Pl-please, let me go. I don't like this.” There was sadism in the man's eyes, when Ray turned to face him. “Ah- y-you're hurting me.” Ray voiced, when the hand on his leg tightened.

 

“I know.” The man whispered. “Honestly, you're really quiet. Doesn't it hurt?” He moved his other hand to grab at Ray's wrist, squeezing it. Ray didn't cry out, only stared on in fear, trembling. The man frowned, disappointment crossing his features. “Tch. You won't even be fun.” He sighed, digging his thumb with bruising pressure into the child's wrist. “Fine. Be that way. We'll skip straight to the end.”

 

The man let go of Ray's leg, instead grabbing him by the throat. A strangled whine wriggled from his mouth. “Too late now, you didn't sing for me. Now you're just going to be a nice little doll for me to prop up and throw away.” Pressure was added to his windpipe, and Ray saw colors.

 

He didn't remember kicking out, but he _did_ and the man yelled loudly and let him go. Ray _ran_ , he ran as fast as he could for the exit, scrambling out. Making it to the bedroom, he heard the anger and fury from the man, past the heartbeat in his ears. _Momma's gun. She's not here but-_

 

**Always protect yourself, Ray. I won't always be around to do it. Do it for Mommy. She loves you so much.**

 

He dug through the drawers to find the gun. By then the man was coming out of the closet and looking for him. He was shaking so fucking badly, and he pulled at the trigger but it was stuck. _The-- safety. How-_ He fumbled with it, as the assailant got closer, laughing at his shaking and his attempts to defend himself, to be threatening. “Stop!” He shouted, pointing the gun. The man didn't care, maybe he thought it was a toy. It didn't matter.

 

Ray shot, shot, _shot_ , until the gun wouldn't shoot anymore. The man fell forward and nearly crushed him if he hadn't darted backwards. He was riddled in holes, but so was the wall behind him and the ceiling; but the back of his head was _gone_ , replaced with gore. Ray found himself not really disgusted with it, only relieved.

 

His mother came in as he was inspecting the body, pushing his mother's backscratcher against the brain matter that had been exposed. Her scream struck through him and made his whole form go cold.

 

“What-- What did you _do!_ You monster!” She howled. “How-- Did you do this?”

 

“I-I was just.. He--”

 

“You horrible, little,” there were tears in her eyes. She dropped down to her knees next to the man, whispering his name and trying to hold him.

 

“Mom,” Ray lamented, eyes glassing over. “I was just protecting-”

 

“ _Get out,_ ” The woman rasped, voice so full of _hate_ and _anger_ he barely recognized it. “Get the _fuck_ out of my house.”

 

Ray didn't understand. She was supposed to be happy. He did what she said. She howled at him, swiping her perfectly manicured nails at him and scratching his face, making it bleed. She roared at him to _**GET OUT**_ once more, and this time he listened. He ran. He ran to get his things from his little room and then ran for the door of the apartment, not even daring to look back. Her mournful wails chased him out to the street. He heard police. He ran. He _ran_ and he sobbed.

 

Only when he was at the park did he stop. The sirens were quiet now, he was far enough away. It was dark. He crumpled around his bag and let out a muffled wail against his arms. She'd disowned him, she never wanted to see him again. _I only did what you asked me to,_ He rasped internally. _He wanted to hurt me... Is that what **you** wanted? Is that why you left me with him?_

 

That had to be it. He clenched his eyes, more hot tears running down his face. He bawled for a good, long while, but the lights and sirens as they looked for him made him get up and _run_. He had to leave. _Had to._

 

But he didn't know where to go. The tiny boy stumbled in the dark, his glasses fogged from his tears, but he could see fairly well. His pupils were huge as he found himself suddenly surrounded by train cars. Just like the movies.

 

_I'll leave and never come back,_ He mumbled, as he struggled to pull himself into one of the cars. He had to drag over a box from nearby just to make it inside. Tucking himself away between two huge carts, he dragged out the blanket he'd stuffed into his bag. He huddled it around himself, closing his eyes. Sleep came surprisingly easily.

 

He only woke up when the huge engines began screaming, and he was jerked sharply when he began moving. For a split second, he considered jumping out, to running back home. Where was this place even going?

 

Using the light on his game, he checked one of the huge crates he was hiding behind. He found the shipping label.

 

**Ship to: Los Santos, California**

 

In his child mind, he was convinced he could make it. It only had to be a few days, right? He still had his box of pop-tarts and these shipping units had food labels on some of them. If he could just hide inside here, he could be where it was warm, there was no snow. He'd seen things on TV about Los Santos. It was beautiful there.

 

_Yes. I'll live in Los Santos._ He smiled and curled up around his bag. _Los Santos... Home._


	2. Living on the Streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray is a young boy living on the streets of Los Santos. He attracts the eye of a certain dark-eyed man, who takes a particular interest in him. Joel was never one to take kindly to strangers, but when he welcomed someone into his life, he went the whole nine yards.

Breaking open the crates of food was harder than Ray had anticipated, but he managed. He broke into one in the back, in case anyone came to inspect; he stuffed his bag with as much of whatever he could find. Pop-tarts and canned ravioli with the snap tops, cereal and other things he could cart around with him that he could get his hands on.

 

Once he made it to Los Santos, though, he fell into chaos.

 

The place was a disaster daily. He learned early on to pickpocket and to beg for money. Sometimes he would use other people's pets to make people want to give him more cash. Whenever he found a dog tied outside of a store, he would sit next to it with his backpack left open for tossed in coins or bills, and his little sign he made by stealing cardboard and some markers he had in his bag.

 

It worked, for a while. He fought to feed himself, to find places to sleep, but the boy managed. He was only eleven, though; his child logic was terribly flawed.

 

Sleeping inside of a tunnel at a park only worked when he didn't sleep in. The sound of other children yelling and screaming playfully would wake him, and he would have to scramble to stuff his little nest into his pack before someone found him. Playgrounds were too populated, he discovered; allies were better.

 

Occasionally, someone would try and find out where his parents were, thinking him lost. As the first six months wore on, though, it became clearer he wasn't lost, but homeless. His clothes became filthy, and so did the rest of him. Why buy soap or new clothes or a wash at the laundromat when you could buy candy with the money you got?

 

The boy was outgrowing his clothes quickly, though, even with stunted growth from barely eating. He began stealing from people's tables at outdoor cafes, park benches and piers. He couldn't stay in one place too long, once people got to know his face he had to move on to avoid people getting to _know_ him. 

 

A shelter he happened across let him sleep there for a few weeks. They gave him new, bigger clothes that barely fit him but he would grow into, or so they promised. He got bigger shoes, too, and even a new bag.

 

For a year and a half, the boy flitted between halfway houses, allies, park benches and recycling bins. He was able to steal a gun from another homeless man who was either drunk passed out or OD'd, he wasn't sure, didn't care. He begged for bus fare and took it to another part of the city, this one nicer which meant he'd stick out more. The gun he had was empty but it was enough to keep people away from him if they got too close, he reckoned. He kept it in his bag.

 

Scraping by for food made him stealthy, but also clever. If he looked pathetic enough he could get people to give him part of their meal or even buy him one.

 

A small coffee shop that was a block from his new home-alley became a common visiting of his. The owner didn't mind him hovering around inside, as long as he didn't pester the customers directly. He still did, of course, but was sneaky about it. He curled up in the far corner and people watched, squinting behind glasses too small and out of date for his eyes.

 

The first week or so he didn't even see the guy who was also watching him, because he was blind as a fucking bat but wouldn't admit it.

 

The man frequented the coffee shop because it was near his house and it had free wi-fi and free people watching. He wasn't a social creature but he enjoyed the human animal in their natural habitat. That, and, overhearing life stories was just a blast in his opinion.

 

He first noticed the kid coming in after the third time of seeing him. The man slouched back, comfortable in his corner booth. The young boy was squinting around at them all, trying to absorb, listen, intake.  _Learn._ The man watched with a calculated haze in his gaze as the boy came and went, begged and stole. In plain sight, he slipped a woman's purse and cell phone from her side. He dashed out with them and she was none the wiser, assuming she'd left it somewhere. Amazing. 

 

 

He caught the kid's attention as he walked toward the bathroom. He whistled between his teeth, almost making a grab for him when he jumped and nearly bolted. Ray stared at him with wide eyes, rimmed with dark circles. “Hey,” Joel greeted, awkwardly. “I'm Joel. You know that little market down the street from here?”

 

“Philipe's?” Ray asked, wearily stepping away. Joel grabbed his wallet, noting the boy's open flinch as he did, then leafed out a $20 bill. Ray's eyes got huge.

 

“Yeah. Could you run down there and get me some curry? The owner knows me. Tell him he can put it on my tab and bring me some. Say Joel sent you.” He rubbed the bill's ends together. “I'll give you a $20 if you go run that for me.”

 

“Okay.” Ray said, instantly; with zero hesitation. Joel smiled, despite himself. The kid turned and darted out the door, even though he was suspicious there was no harm in trying. He stepped along the threshold of the market, the owner looking up and frowning at Ray. “I'm here for Joel,” The boy said. “He sent me to get him some stuff to put on his, uh... Tab?”

 

The owner, a pleasant looking man with dark skin and hair, with brown eyes who looked over the boy for a long moment. “Sure,” He finally said.

 

Ray took absolute advantage. He dragged candy, bread, soda, bottled water and jerky off the shelves, before finally mumbling asking where the curry was. In the end, with all of the shit Ray grabbed and the curry, there was over $40 worth of foodstuffs. The owner packed it all into bags, passing it over to Ray. The boy smiled, awkwardly, before scooping the bags on his arms and teetering out the door.

 

He had to dig out the bottle of curry and put it into it's own bag, then he hid the rest of the stuff behind the dumpster in his alley. He walked into the coffee shop again, actually surprised to see Joel there. The man perked up at the sight of him, holding out the money. Ray rushed up, snatching the crisp bill and nearly slamming the bottle onto the table. He turned the bolt but a hand caught his arm.

 

Fear bolted down his spine, eyes massive under his glasses. “You should come by here and see if I have any errands for you,” He said, “I'm sure I've got stuff for you to run and grab for me.” He let the boy go, and Ray stood there in shock for a few moments.

 

“Y...Yeah, sure, mister,” Ray mumbled, heart pounding in his ears. “Thanks.”

 

 

Joel watched the kid for a few weeks after that. He didn't catch the boy's name but he wasn't well known in the dynamics of the shop yet. How long he'd been coming and going he wasn't sure, but the owner didn't know his name either. He would spot Joel, eyeball him a bit through a long, extended squint, then slowly walk over as if expecting to be shouted at.

 

Every few days he would talk to him, send him to get something from the corner shop. As he expected, the tab he had was well over a hundred dollars when he went in himself. He payed it without breathing a word, wanting the kid to keep doing what he was doing. He did keep the receipts, though, to see what the youngster was buying.

 

“Hey,” He said, when the boy walked up to him, and was prepared to walk by; there was an odd little ritual between them, where Joel would either talk to him or let him walk past, and that would be their interaction. “Can you read this?” He's scribbled down “My name is Joel” on a flier with a pen, holding it up to the kid.

 

“Yeah,” Ray said, slightly defensively. “Do you need me to get you anything?” He pressed. Joel hummed.

 

“What does it say?” he pressed.

 

“I don't want to read it right now,” the young boy said softly, frown on his face.

 

“Okay. Yeah, go ahead and go buy me some french bread. You know, the round ones in the paper bags.” He said, already getting him out his payment. “You can take it first this time.” He added, watching how the tiny hand snatched the bill from him without a second's pause, but he was staring at Joel. He met his gaze evenly, knowing he probably couldn't even see his eyes through his outgrown glasses. 

 

Ray held the bill to his chest, heart tittering therein. He could take it and go, right? But..

 

No. It was a better idea to just run and get the bread, and bring it back. This guy- he might pay him again, but he knew he wouldn't be getting anymore money if he ran off. His greed took over and he did the errand without bolting. “Thanks,” Joel said, slipping him an extra five.

 

On the third week, Joel asked the boy to sit with him. “What's your name?” He said, casually.

 

“What do you need me to get you today?” The boy demanded, standing next to the chair Joel had pulled out for him across from the booth seat at the table. He didn't sit. Joel understood the paranoia.

 

“Not today, but I wanted to chat a little. I promise I'll make it worth your time.” He added. The boy sat heavily into the seat, but he kept looking behind him. “You can sit in the booth if you want.” He added.

 

“I'm Ray.” Came the tiny voice, as he slid into the booth as far from Joel as possible, keeping his back to the booth's wall so he couldn't be crept up on. “Why do you want to talk to me?” His hands were twisting under the table, so very sure he was in huge trouble, that his abusing the tab at the store had been noticed.

 

“Ray,” Joel said. “Look, kid, calm down,” He sighed, leaning on his palm. “I'm not mad or anything. Yeah, I know you've been buying shit with my tab but I _knew_ you would, that's why I told you to use the tab and didn't just give you cash.” He locked eyes with him. Joel's heart actually hurt at the fear and confusion in the young features. “Ray, do you have a house to sleep at?” 

 

“No,” Ray said, unsure as to why he gave away that detail, but his pulse was hammering and he couldn't read Joel at all since he couldn't see his face. “I'm okay, though.”

 

“I'm sure you are. You've been doing just fine on your own,” He said, and his tone showed he meant it. “Why don't you come stay with me?”

 

Ray went stiff, shoulders tight and eyes wide. “Hey, kid, it was just a suggestion- Ray?” He looked  _afraid,_ whites in his eyes showing. “You don't have to. It's a suggestion; if you  _want_ to, you can. Okay? Think about it.” He stared as the boy tried to fight down a panic, a feeling he knew all too well.  _He's too young to be putting up with this kinda shit,_ Joel thought. He pushed two tens and a five over to Ray, who snatched it but didn't leave, trembling. 

 

“I-- I can really..?”

 

“Yeah,” Joel said. “S'up to you. I've got a spare room. It's, uh.” He shrugged. “It's not done up but if you help me you can sleep in there, or on the couch. Whatever.”

 

_A bed._ Ray hadn't slept on a bed in a couple of years now, not since he left home. His eyes widened and he held the money to his chest. 

 

“No,” He rasped. “N-no, you're mad at me and want to take me home with you so you can-” He began, voice kicking up in pitch. Joel held out both hands and he flinched, cutting off.

 

“Shh, okay, okay. You don't have to, you can stay wherever you are. I'm just trying to help. I want to take you off the street, not take you out.” He sighed. “Just think on it. The offer is there when you want it. I'll still need someone to run and fetch me things either way.”

 

Ray nodded slowly, before he slid out of the booth and left the shop. Joel didn't see him for a couple days after that, and was actually afraid he'd chased him off, but then that messy mop of black hair appeared and he turned toward where Joel usually sat. He had a bag hanging off one shoulder and he looked  _scared_ . 

 

“I want to go home with you,” Ray said, in a rush. “Now. Right now.” There was an urgency in his voice that set off bells in Joel's head.

 

“'Kay,” He said, standing and walking for the door. “Come on,” He added, since Ray just stood there after he passed. Joel's skin crawled when the boy grabbed his wrist, but he also knew he couldn't fucking _see_ so he let him. “Is someone following you?”

 

“I took his bag,” Ray whispered. “I-I left it but he said he was coming to get me.” He was shaking. “There was money in it.”

 

_Ah, shit._ The kid probably walked in the middle of some soft of transaction. “Did you take any of the money?” He asked. Silence met him. “Ray. Did you?” 

 

“I-I didn't think he'd notice,” Ray rasped, pulling out a small stack of money. There had to be $500 in it. “B-but he did-”

 

“HEY!” The voice bellowed across the parking lot, and Joel's head snapped up. He took the money stack from Ray, looking for the source of the voice. A huge man in a hoodie was stalking right for them. Ray made a tiny noise of fear, but Joel stepped in front of him. “Is that your fucking kid? Did you send him out here to lift from me?”

 

“Yeah, he's my kid, but I didn't tell him to steal from you. Here.” Joel said, able to feel Ray's gaze as it snapped up to stare at him in shock. “There a problem?”

 

“There's a fucking _problem!_ That little spitfuck just stole from me!” Ray tucked behind Joel further, standing no higher than his rib cage and curling a small hand into his loose jacket.

 

“Yeah, you're gonna wanna leave. I gave you the money back and he's sorry.” Joel said, casually. He pulled up the edge of his long shirt to show the gun tucked into its holder on his hip. “You don't wanna make this harder than it has to be.”

 

Joel's cold eyes watched how the man's face drained of blood and he began backing away. He was unarmed, just some asshole with a big voice, probably a drug dealer and a new one at that. Joel let his shirt drop when he turned away. “You alright, kid?” Ray didn't answer him, but had his head down in shame. “S'alright, I wouldn't have thought he'd notice either. You still wanna come back with me?” The silent nod and avoided eye contact was enough for him. He opened the door of his car for the kid to climb in, holding his bag on his lap.

 

“Seatbelt,” Joel said softly. Ray stared at him, then awkwardly battled with it before clicking it on.

 

“Why'd you say I was your kid?” Ray dropped after about ten minutes of silence.

 

Joel shrugged. “Because,” He said unhelpfully. “It was kinda already decided since I'm gonna take you in I'll own up to it. You can stay with me and I'll make sure you're taken care of. First, we're gonna get you new glasses.”

 

“I-I don't-!” Ray shouted. “I'm-”

 

“You're blind and those glasses are too fucking small. I'm gonna take you to the house and make sure you're alright with this; even if you decide not to stay with me, I'm getting you a place to stay and new clothes.” He laughed to himself. “Someone has to look after you.”

 

“I've been doing just fine,” Ray muttered, pouting.

 

“You have,” Joel admitted. “You really have, kid. Ray.” He looked at him as he turned a corner, into a neighborhood. “That doesn't mean you have to, though.”

 

“Why're you doing this?” Ray asked, voice small.

 

“I don't know.” Joel said, chewing on the question. “I've never been one to do the right thing, so I don't think it's that. Maybe I just want to. I donno why. You remind me of me, you're scared and paranoid and you are doing whatever you need to to get by.”

 

Ray didn't press after that, but he was clearly nervous and scared when they arrived at Joel's house. The boy hovered in his doorway and didn't leave, looking around the house as best he could. He was shaking by the time Joel came back from getting him a bottle of water. “Oh... Please don't. I'm sorry. Are you scared?”

 

“Please don't kill me,” Ray blurted, but it was tiny, practically a squeak. “I'm sorry.”

 

Joel set the bottle down, shock overtaking him. “I'm-- not going to kill you,” He said, wondering what happened to make him think that all of this was a ruse to murder him. “Hey-- Ray, don't- oh, god, you're not gonna cry, are you?”

 

“No!” Ray shouted, but he sounded like he already was. His eyes were wet but there wasn't tears coming. “I just don't understand! What are you getting from this! No one just _helps_ me, they always wanna do it to make themselves feel good and I don't want you to feel bad for me!”

 

The fit was loud and high, and Joel found himself surprisingly not terribly annoyed. He wasn't sure if this was the best thing, but he stalked over and wrapped his arms around the kid. He was shorter than him by a lot, chest-height but he clutched at Joel like his fucking life depended on it. Joel didn't hug people, not ever; but his logic told him it would shut the kid up, so he did. Ray made a withering whine before he sagged into Joel's arms. He didn't let go, and Joel was starting to peel back because he was very done with this closeness bullshit when Ray muttered under his breath. “I can't make it up to you.”

 

“As long as you stay off the damn street and let yourself be taken care of by an adult then you're making it up,” He said. “Now drink some damn water and go take a shower, you're gross. I'll get you some clothes.”

 

Ray watched as Joel pulled away and disappeared into another part of the house. When he came back, Ray still hadn't moved and he looked annoyed. “You didn't tell me where the bathroom is.” The boy mumbled.

 

“....Okay, valid. It's down this hall. Here's a shirt and some pants for you, and a belt because it's all too huge.” He offered. Ray stared at him for a long moment before taking the clothes, and disappearing into the bathroom. He took a long shower, it was probably 45 minutes before he came back out, hair stringy and wet around his shoulders and making the t-shirt that he had wet. It was one Joel used to wear in high school, because it was the smallest he had that might fit the kid. It didn't, really, but it wasn't too bad.

 

“Let's go get you glasses,” He said. “You can't see shit.” He added.

 

“I'm fine!” Ray shouted. “I just--”

 

They devolved into an argument, before Joel got fed up and just showed him the spare room. It was full of paperwork and files, so the two of them worked in silence in emptying it and putting all of the boxes into the garage. He didn't prod or ask what it all was, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

The first night, Ray got no sleep. He was too worried about what was going to happen; ready to bolt at any second, but Joel only knocked on the door at about 8AM. “Do you have school or anything?” He called through the door.

 

“No..” Ray answered.

 

“Kay.” Was the easy reply, then he was left alone. Joel didn't try to fish him out of the room, and only when his bladder was starting to hurt did the boy wander out. Joel was sitting, watching TV and eating cereal even though it was noon. He didn't greet Ray, but he did tilt his chin up to show he noticed him. Ray used the bathroom, then stood awkwardly in the livingroom.

 

“Are you gonna sit and watch TV or what?” The man asked. “Do you watch cartoons?”

 

“Uhm. I-I guess.” Ray said, sitting in the farthest seat from Joel. The man switched it to a random cartoon.

 

“I made an appointment for you next week at the doctor's. We're getting you all your vaccines. How old are you?” Joel dropped, making Ray nearly drop the bottle of water that had been sitting on the end table.

 

“Uh, I-I'm 13,” He muttered. “I'm-”

 

“Going to the doctor, for sure. I don't need to be getting all your kid illnesses just because your shitty family left you on the street.” He glared at the screen. “I'm your family now, and no family of mine is gonna be riddled with diseases or sickness.” He huffed out before taking another bite. “What's your full name?”

 

Ray fiddled with the hem of the shirt he was wearing, eyes diverted. “Ray.. N-Narvaez, Jr.” He said. No point in lying. Joel hummed in thought, then jotted something down on a note pad sitting on the arm of the couch. He put down his empty bowl and then grabbed his cell phone.

 

“You're a lot of paper work, kid; but we'll get you taken care of.”

 

\----

 

Ray got used to living with Joel in about a week. His doctor's appointment came around and he found himself starting to trust Joel. The man truly was trying to help him. As he got into the car, he allowed his stuff to be left at the house, allowed himself to be driven away.

 

“Man, I hate needles,” Joel was saying. “Like, so much. They fuck me up.” He shuddered. Ray nodded, feeling the same about them from when he remembered getting a shot when he was really little. He said nothing when they rolled up to the office, Joel walking him in and signing all this paperwork. The nurse was all smiles and sweetness, she had red lipstick and dark hair, with pale eyes. Joel followed them into one of the smaller rooms before he stepped back. “Whelp, I'm not sticking around to watch them stick you,” He said, all too casually. Ray watched with huge eyes as the man's shape backed to the door and opened it. “I'll be in the waiting room for you.”

 

Ray discovered being _alone_ and getting shots was _so_ much worse. He was shaking when the nurse came with the needle, and her sweet voice did nothing for him. He was alone, Joel had ditched him because he hated needles too. The boy felt like he might throw up by the time they finished, being walked out by the nurse.

 

“Hey,” Joel greeted him happily, and it made Ray feel much better. “Let's go get ice cream.”

 

Ray forgot about how being alone made him feel, forgot how his stomach hollowed out when the needles broke his skin and their contents emptied into his body. Joel did what was best for him, that much was clear.

 

The guy was neurotic to say the least. Joel got wound up over just about everything, which in turn made Ray pretty easily paranoid too. Still, he had a place to stay and eventually was talked into getting new glasses.

 

“Oh.” Was all he said when he put them on and actually saw Joel's face for the first time. He didn't comment besides that, but the man seemed to read him.

 

“Yeah, I know, I look like I never sleep. You really are my kid because so do you.” He pointed out.

 

Ray was starting to think ahead. Of what he wanted to do for his birthday in 8 months, of what kind of jobs he could do for Joel to get allowance. He'd been living there for three weeks now. He walked out to the livingroom when he heard Joel on the phone.

 

“Goddamnit, Ryan. I know. But he can't stay here any longer.” Joel's voice was strained. “You've gotta take him. Yeah, I'll take care of it. I know, I know. I _know_ , that's why I'm bringing him there tomorrow.” He went around like that, repeating himself over and over. When he shut his phone and turned to walk into the house, he froze when he saw Ray. “Oh.”

 

“Wh... Who was that?” Ray asked, in a tone that made Joel's heart hurt a little.

 

“My friend, Ryan. You're going to live with him now.” He said, bluntly. “He's getting his place ready for you and I'm taking you there to live with him from now on tomorrow. Do you want help packing your stuff?”

 

“N.. No,” Ray breathed out, hurt and feeling badly burned. He ran back to the spare room- he'd started considering it _his_ room- and began angrily throwing things into his bag. He wasn't going back to the goddamn street, he _refused_. He felt like Joel must've really hated him, though. He wondered what he did wrong as he got into Joel's car the next day, wondered how he'd fucked this up so bad as to be dropped off at some random guy's house now. _What did I do? I'm so stupid, so stupid..._ His eyes stung and he didn't talk to Joel the whole drive, just kept his arms crossed and his bag at his feet. He looked out the window and tried not to focus on how much easier it was to see with his new glasses. 

 


End file.
